Tangled
by darthgeek08
Summary: [COMPLETE] Grissom rushes to find Sara after she is kidnapped from a crime scene.
1. Not Falling Apart

* * *

Petals were strewn every where. Rose petals and on closer inspection they created a trail. Grissom followed.

From the front door they lead up a flight of stairs, turned a corner and stopped in front of a door, most likely a bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and he pushed it open. The petals made a path to the bed where they covered the slightly off-white down comforter. Candles covered every flat surfaces, most of them already burned out.

And in the middle of it all Grissom saw what it was he was here for. The woman's lithe body lay provocatively across the bedspread, her arms bounded to the headboard. All she wore was a pale lavender teddy that didn't hide anything.

The scene would have been any male's fantasy if it wasn't for the trail of blood leading from the wound on her chest.

"Only one stab wound. Most likely premeditated. What do you think?"

Grissom hadn't noticed Sara trailing after him. As soon as he had entered the house the rest of the world had faded and it was only him and the crime scene. He gave a small nod, then walked closer to the body.

"Yes, but there's a limited amount of blood. So, I'm guessing it wasn't the cause of death. Look at this bruising."

Sara stopped snapping photos for a moment and walked across the room to the other side of the bed.

"Thin ligatures on the neck. Strangulation. Do you think maybe she was expecting someone else?" She watched as Grissom leaned forward to inspect her bonds.

"This cloth is tied too tightly for her to have been able to do it herself. But There's no signs of defensive wounds. I think she knew her attacker."

"Have you talked to the first on scene?'

"Yes. Husband called it in. On his radio."

"The husband's a uniform?"

"Yep. Twelve years. This was supposed to be his night off, but another officer called in sick."

"So, why was our victim getting ready for a night of bumping and grinding?"

Grissom gave her a look.

Sara shrugged and snapped a few more pictures before speaking again. "I can finish up here. I know you still have some paper work to do with that Levine case."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Don't forget to check for skin under her finger nails." She nodded but Grissom wasn't entirely sure she'd heard him. He watched her for a moment more then turned on his heel and left.

Sara let a breath she didn't know she was holding. She knew she shouldn't have said anything, but this reminded her too much of the case they worked a few months ago where a young woman was killed while getting ready for the same thing their current victim was. Debbie Marlin had been her name, butterflies were her game. Griss had probably already forgotten.

She hadn't.

That was one of her great character faults. She never forgot.

She turned to put up her camera, the gasped and dropped it when she realized she wasn't alone. Sara tried to calm her pounding heart. "Excuse me, you aren't allowed in here. This is a closed crime scene." Her hand itched toward her gun, just in case.

The man smiled. "Relax. I'm just taking a look around."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." She tried to make her voice forceful, but it wavered when he took a step closer. His smile had twisted evilly, his dark eyes menacing. As he came closer Sara took several steps backwards.

Suddenly the heel of her boot caught the strap of her camera sending her tumbling. She hit the ground with a thud then rolled to push off the carpeted floor. That was where she made a mistake. She turned her back to a possible threat.

Like a tiger waiting to pounce the man lunged forward and pinned her to the floor her arms trapped at her sides. She thrashed as hard as she could, but to no avail. He wrapped his hands in her hair and pulled. He covered her nose and mouth with a cloth, muffling her screams. Mistake number two.

She sucked in a harsh breath and instantly regretted it. She recognized the smell. Chloroform. In mere moments she felt dizzy and her world started to spin. Another few seconds and everything was dark.


	2. If You Only Knew

Disclaimer: Dont own CSI. Blah, Blah, Blah. Duh. If I owned CSI i would be lounging in a pool with a Dr. Pepper and a trashy romance novel.

Thank you Grissomsgirl24, heartcat, Emihn, saskia2, and Bradybunch4529 for being my first reviewers. This ones for you guys.

* * *

Grissom sat behind his desk, phone in hand, expression frozen in place. It wasn't possible. Sara would never let someone overpower her. His heart beat so fast, he was sure it could be heard down the hall.

"Grissom? You still there?" Brass's gruff voice filtered through his boggled mind.

"Yes. Don't let anyone in that house. I'll be there in five minutes." Grissom slammed down his phone, before realizing he was talking on his cell. He grumbled a curse, then shoved the hunk of plastic in his pocket and grabbed his keys.

Nearly bulldozing five lab techs he stopped in front of the break room.

"Greg!" Griss barked.

The newest field agent flinched and looked up from his music magazine.

"Yes?"

"What are you still doing here?" You were supposed to be at the Davis residence a half-hour ago."

"I was—"

"I don't care. You weren't where you were supposed to be and now Sara is missing. Get In you car and get your ass over there."

"Yes, sir." Greg scrambled off the couch and fled from the room.

Grissom turned to see that several people had stopped to watch him.

"Get back to work!" He didn't have to say it twice.

* * *

Grissom was fuming all the way to the scene. How could he leave her alone? Had all these years taught him nothing? He should have waited for Greg to get there. If something happened to Sara he would never forgive himself.

His SUV screeched to a halt in front of the Davis house and he got out, his kit in hand. Greg was a couple seconds behind.

Grissom made his way through a group of bystanders and under the crime scene tape. He stopped in front of Brass.

"I need to know what everyone here was doing. What they heard, what they saw. If any of your guys left for even a second I need to know."

Brass started to say something but Griss wasn't listening.

"Greg!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Go inside. Search the house. Find anything, call my cell. Cath should be here within the hour. Leave no rock unturned.""

"Where are you going to be?"

"Our suspect obviously didn't leave through the front." With that Grissom turned and headed to the back yard.

* * *

An hour later and Grissom was no where closer to finding Sara. All he found was a white thread. Impossible to trace.

He checked the alley behind the house. He shined his flashlight along the concrete, but there were no signs of tire treads.

"Dammit!" Grissom flung his flashlight against the wooden privacy fence, momentarily satisfied by the resounding clunk it made.

"Hey!" He spun around to see Catherine coming out of the backyard.

"Did you find anything?"

"Some hairs, a fingerprint, and an unidentified liquid. You?"

"Nothing. If our suspect went through the backyard he didn't step in any mud."

Catherine shined her flashlight against the fence. "Did you see that spot of paint?"

"Where?" He looked where the light shone. A large dent in the wood with yellow paint chips. "How did I miss that?"

"Perhaps you were rushing the evidence?" Catherine lifted a finely plucked brow. "Look if this case is too personal for you maybe you should pull yourself out of it."

Grissom remained quiet as he scraped some of the paint into an evidence bag. "It's not personal."

"Yeah. Keep telling yourself that." As Catherine walked away that's exactly what Grissom did.


	3. Must Get Out

**Disclaimer: Dont own CSI. What I do own is a clumsy cat named Thomas GilGrissom the third. There was no one and two. **

Sorry this update is so late. I've been crazy busy and with the server down or what not it's been hectic. So here you go. #3.

* * *

Papers haphazardly covered Grissom's desk as he tried to sort through them all. As soon as he put them where they were supposed to go, the letters on them would blur and change and he would have to go through them again.

This seemed to go on forever until another presence caught his attention. He looked up and there she stood. Fighting the impulse to run to her, he stood.

Sara smiled. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

"No."

"Come on, let's go to dinner… see what happens."

His words seemed to come from a distance instead of from him. "I... don't know what to do about this."

One corner of her mouth fell, twisting her lips into a cynical smirk. "I do. And when you finally figure it out, you might be too late."

Her voice echoed and she started to slowly walk backwards into a cloud of darkness. Grissom repeatedly called out to her, but she only grinned and shook her head.

_Too late._

* * *

Grissom awoke with a start. He looked at the clock on the wall of his office. 4:45. Sara had been gone for five hours. He frowned. Sleep wasn't something he had time for. When he realized he was mumbling, he bit his tongue.

He lowered his gaze to see Sofia in the doorway.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough. What were you too late for?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Do you have something for me?"

She watched him closely, as a mongoose would watch a cobra, careful, calculating.

"Well, I ran the print Catherine found on a wineglass. We got a hit." Sofia was quiet for a moment.

"Look I don't have time for you to build suspense. You got a hit. Good. Who is it?"

"A Ms. Sara Sidle. One prior for DUI."

His brow creased. "That's not possible. Sara would never handle evidence without gloves."

Sofia lifted and dropped one shoulder. "How can you be so sure it got there while she was processing the scene? I mean, are you even 100 sure she was kidnapped?"

"Of course she was. I know Sara better than that. She wouldn't up and leave and not tell anyone." But Sofia had planted doubt in his heart. Could it be possible that he didn't know her as well as he thought?

"Maybe you should concentrate on the one thing that doesn't lie: the evidence."

As Grissom contemplated this new possibility, Sofia slipped out, a smug grin on her face.

* * *

Sara slowly came to, she was conscious of her face pressed against cold concrete. Her mouth was dry and her sight was blurred. She couldn't remember much of what happened, but with her arms bound behind her back and her ankles tied tightly she could guess. She had been kidnapped.

Inwardly, she kicked herself. Why had she let her self become overpowered? That wasn't her. She wasn't some weak, innocent, flower of a woman. No one ever got the better of her. Well, with the exception of Grissom.

Grissom was the only person to every completely get under her skin. Hadn't she learned that all men were good for was a broken heart? Even someone as trustworthy as an EMT had gone behind her back. She needed a man like a fish needed a Harley. Even if the fish new how to work the darn thing it's not like it was possible for it to use that knowledge.

Rage burned inside her. And as the embers grew her thoughts of escape were fueled. First she surveyed her surroundings. Sara was being held in some kind of storage shed. A lawn mower was pushed against the wall to her right, a tool chest to the left with a small paned window above. In front of her was a door with a deadbolt lock.

The wheels in her head began turning in time with her arms. Sara alternated pulling up one arm and pushing down the other, until finally they were free. Making quick work of the knot holding her ankles together and the tape across her mouth she stood.

The world titled for a moment, then straightened when she shook her head. Now, should she try to break the window and squeeze out? Or try breaking the lock on the door?

But she never had to make that choice. Right as she was about to search the drawers of the tool chest the lock turned. Her blood ran cold even as the door opened bringing with it a rush of hot air.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Ms. Sidle. Attempting to escape are we?"

That voice. Where had she heard that voice? Sara was afraid to find out, but she had to. Slowly, she turned.

Her heart stopped. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then a fist like a rock hit the side of her face and she was down. A cloth again descended to her face, only no chloroform this time. He wanted her awake for whatever was going to happen next.

His fist came down on her again and again and all she could do was anticipate the nightmare that was soon to come.

* * *

He was making his way down the hall when someone called his name.

"Grissom! Can I talk to you for a sec?" It was Sheriff Mobley. Inwardly he groaned.

He stopped and turned. "I'm late for an autopsy, could you make this fast?"

"Yeah it'll only take a minute." Mobley blocked his escape route. "I need to know if this murder is going to be placed on a cop."

"We'll see."

The sheriff's smile froze. "Look, Gil. This has got to blow over as calmly as possible. No media, no press. Nothing. Last time a cop turned dirty the sheriff was out on his ass faster than you could say D.A."

"We'll see"

Grissom continued down the hall to the autopsy room before Mobley could say anything else. When he passed the lab, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, but when he turned it was only him.

Shaking his head, Grissom entered the autopsy, where Doc Robbins standing over the dissected body of Julia Davis, writing notes down on a clipboard.

"What have you got for me Doc?"

Robbins stopped writing to look at him over the rim of his glasses. "Other than the fact that her lymph nodes are swollen, suggesting that she's recently had to fight off some kind of sickness, our girl was healthy. I took a blood sample and sent some of her stomach contents to tox to be safe. Now on to the reason you're here. Cause of death. Asphyxiation due to strangulation. The stab wound, caused by some slender tool, maybe a screwdriver, was made postmortem. Time of death was around 9:30."

"Which is around the time the husband called in. But what I don't get is why the husband was home if he was supposed to be working."

Grissom looked up at Doc, who was looking back. "Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known."


	4. The Sun

**Disclaimer:CSI is not mine.**

Sorry my chapters aren't long. I stop when I can't think of anything more for the chapter. But anyways thanks to all who have reviewed. If you want to know where my titles come from look up Maroon 5 on size=1 width=100% noshade>

Officer Robert Davis had been on the force twelve years. Combine that with his four year tour with the army and he had seen more humans at their most destructive than you could shake a stick at. He had come a long way from his abused child background, but there had still been more darkness than light. The owner of the only light was his wife, now dead by the hands of some creep.

Grissom and Brass listened as he told them this. "I loved my wife, but she was just so young and lively. Sometimes I had a hard time keeping up. I mean she wasn't even old enough to drink when we got married. She is-- was barely old enough to drink now."

Grissom looked to Brass as Davis held his head in his hands and looked to the ground. Brass nodded to the unasked question. "Well, Mr. Davis I just have a couple more questions then you can go. Why were you home at the time your wife died?"

Davis raised his head and looked across the interrogation room at the small window. "Melissa. Melissa was still little miss party girl. I thought that maybe after we got married she would slow down. Two years of marriage and she was still out at the clubs every night. I don't know when the other men started showing up, but after a while she didn't even hide it anymore. When I had to go into work last night I knew one of those guys was going to show up. It was the perfect opportunity to confront her." Davis paused for a moment and looked to them. His blue eyes shone with unshed tears. "Look when I went upstairs, she was already dead. I swear to you."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. A couple seconds later Nick walked in. "Sorry to interrupt, but Grissom we need you." He sounded urgent. Griss stood and motioned to Brass to wrap it up.

When they were out in the hall Grissom asked, "What's going on Nick?"

"They found her."

Nick didn't have to say who she was for him to know.

* * *

Her brown hair spilled across the pillow and the light from the window created a halo affect. Except for the swollen lip it was the most peaceful Sara had ever looked. Grissom sat in a chair beside her bed and watched as she slowly breathed, in, out, in, out.

She had been found wandering around the outskirts of town around dawn. Her clothes had been torn and she was badly beaten. The officer who'd found her had rushed her to the hospital before she collapsed from hypothermia. The doctors said a few more minutes and she could've been dead.

That last part had sent a chill down his spine. But when he saw her for himself he had never been more relieved in his life. Not that he would ever tell anyone that.

Grissom looked at his watch. The doctor said that the drugs she'd been given should wear off within the next couple of hours. Since then he had been glancing at the clock every two seconds. Sara had been asleep more than two hours. She should be awake.

While he waited for her to come to his mind kept rolling over the case. Something was missing. There was something there but he couldn't put his finger on it. If the victim was as promiscuous as the husband said then every male or even female she was with was a suspect. Maybe the hair Catherine found would make things clearer.

Lost in thought, Grissom didn't notice the brown eyes that were watching him closely. Her lips tilted in a lopsided grin. "Hello, stranger."

Startled, Grissom stood. "Sara. Are you ok?"

"I can't be that great if I'm in a hospital."

He nodded. "The doctor said you should be fine. You were given a mild sedative to relieve the pain from the fracture in your wrist."

She seemed to just notice the air splint on her arm. Sara frowned. "Why am I here?"

* * *

"No swelling of the brain and her tox screen is clear. Ms. Sidle's Amnesia is most likely from emotional trauma."

"She's been missing for the past twenty-eight hours. Is there any chance she'll regain any of that time?"

Dr. Ericsson shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr. Grissom. It's not likely the memory will come back on its own. There are a couple physcotherapists I could recommend, if you like."

Grissom nodded while Dr. Ericsson went over to his desk to grab a couple numbers from a rolodex. The doctor wrote them down and Griss turned to look through the glass window where Sara was sitting, arms crossed, brow furrowed in concentration. She was probably trying to remember what had gone on during all that time. He could only begin to imagine.

Never in his life could he dream that he'd be this upset over anyone going missing. When he'd first found out she was gone it had been like a blow to the stomach. Then, when Sofia had implied that her disappearance wasn't an accident, it felt like a stab in the back. Now, looking at her, watching her struggle with her inner-demons, he felt like an idiot. Guilt bore down on him for ever having the thought.

Sara looked up, her gaze locking with his and instantly Grissom's fears evaporated. He didn't know how or more importantly why. Sara's mouth twisted into her lopsided grin and he could only do one thing.

He smiled back.


	5. Harder To Breathe

**Diclaimer: I DO NOT OWN CSI. I may like to tell myself I do, but I don't.**

Man, this is crazy. I never thought I would have people begging me to continue. I just kind of put it out here to see if anyone would read it, but I never thought I would actually have to finish the story. Truth be told I have no idea what's going to happen any sooner than y'all do. I should probably work on that. ButI do know the kidnapper but guess what! I'm not telling. :PSara

* * *

This is Gil Grissom.

Cool, calm, collected, other "c" words describing a guy with more brain than brawn. While athletic in his younger years, most of his life has been a pursuit of knowledge.

It's proven that children of divorce are no different than those of normal homes, but with his only parent figure def, silence became normal. Gil learned to appreciate sound and tried to only fill his silence with noises pleasing to the ears.

With silence, though, comes the realization of loneliness. Endless hours of nothingness makes one feel all alone. And for a while this was perfectly fine for a preteen Grissom. But then came high school. Four years of endless misery.

It wasn't so much that he was picked on, but that he might as well have not been there at all. Even the teachers sometimes forgot who he was. Lunch hours were spent in the library absorbing volume after volume, novel after novel, comic after comic. Books were his friends, teachers, pupils. With every page read a piece of him was found and a piece of him was given.

The only serious relationship had been his junior year of college. Michelle was a psychology major and had been fascinated by a man who was wise beyond his years, smarter than half their professors, and yet didn't hold that against anyone. She had to solve the mystery that hid beneath. Little did she know that not even Gil could figure that one out.

But years later, in the form of a brown eyed brunette, he had found the missing puzzle piece.

* * *

This is Gil Grissom now.

Sitting at his desk surrounded by everything that defines him. He is the scattered papers, the volumes of books and specimen jars on the shelf behind him, the phrase organized chaos came to mind. He is the pair of glasses now resting on a pile of notes, he is the Big Mouth Billy Bass above the door, and he is even the pig fetus Nick likes to call Miss Piggy.

He is a part of them and they are a part of him.

But today he felt like a fish out of water; a fly without wings; a baby bird thrown out of the nest before he was ready.

"Grissom?" That voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He glanced up to see a wary Greg standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Greg?"

He took a cautious step forward. "I, uh, heard Sara was released from the hospital. Is she alright?"

Grissom rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on, then began sorting through some of the papers spread out on his desk. "Yes, just a small fracture in her wrist and a couple scrapes." He neglected to tell him about the amnesia. He wasn't sure if he should tell anyone just yet.

There was silence for a moment and Grissom looked up to see Greg, with a look like a puppy dog that had knocked over a vase.

He sighed. "Greg it isn't your fault."

"I know, but you said---"

"I know what I said, but forget it. She's safe now. There's a cop outside her apartment to make sure no one goes in that's not supposed to."

Greg nodded, but kept the uncharacteristically deep frown on his face.

"Any updates on the whereabouts of Sara's kit?"

"Oh, um, yes actually. It was in a ditch a couple blocks away from the Davis residence. The camera is still missing though. I was able to lift a couple prints that weren't Sara's. Jacqui's running them through AFIS as we speak."

"Good. And the hairs Catherine found?"

"Last I checked Mia had them and was creating a DNA profile."

"How long ago was this?"

"About an hour."

"See if she's ran them through CODIS yet."

Greg gave him a two fingered salute, turned on his heel and left.

Grissom allowed himself a small smile before his phone rang. He flipped open the cell phone. "Grissom."

"Hello, Mr. Grissom, sir. Uh, I'm the officer on duty over at Glory Ridge apartments."

Those were Sara's apartments. His heart sped up in prepare for something bad. "Yeah?"

"Well, she asked me to leave."

"She what?"

"She wants me to leave, sir."

"Did she say why?"

"She says I make he feel insecure."

Grissom let out a sigh. "Ok. I'll be over in a couple minutes. Don't leave."

* * *

When he arrived, Grissom parked in the guest parking lot, a few yards from the only two gates in and out of the apartment complex. A couple spaces down was the unmarked car that Officer Garcia was using. The windows were tinted, but Grissom imagined the young field agent saw him as he slightly nodded and walked over to the door sized gateway. To the right of it was a small keypad on which he entered the code Sara had given him and Garcia.

He walked around the pool to her unit. Number 182. And after only a couple of knocks he heard her unlock the door. Grissom counted two deadbolts and a chain.

The door swung open and there she was. For a moment she studied him like a piece of evidence under the microscope before shrugging and stepping back to let him in. Grissom strode in, letting the door close behind him with a resounding click.

When he remembered that he was alone with Sara he couldn't help but think of an old Hemingway novel, _The Sun Also Rises, _in which he wrote, "It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing."


	6. Shiver

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. nuff said.**

Wow. Long time no update. I just got caught up in school ending, but most of it was procrastination. I know I could have found time to write this but honestly would you rather have something I took time on or some piece of crap I threw together just to post something? So without further ado chapter 6.

* * *

Grissom froze in place. Instantly his mind transported him to the last time he'd been here. It was after Sara had been suspended without pay for a week. He remembered the chilling story she'd told him about her childhood.

He still couldn't imagine what it could have been like. An abusive father that drove her mother to murder, growing up with no one who cared about her, it was enough to tear someone apart. But Sara had held fast and she hadn't used her past as an excuse.

Sara walked past him to the kitchen, where she opened the fridge.

She clicked her tongue and in a sarcastic tone, "Well, would you look at that. The first time a man comes over in months and I have no beer."

Grissom winced as she slammed the fridge door and continued around the counter to the living room where she threw herself onto the couch. "You can tell Ecklie that the whole guarding the gate thing, while it is a nice gesture, is unnecessary."

Shaking his head, he walked to the chair across from her. "I requested, well insisted, that they put an officer outside your apartment."

There was a flash of pleasant surprise that was quickly covered up by her cynical expression. "Aw, I didn't know you cared." She looked him right in the eye. "Look, I may have forgotten what's gone on for the past two days or so but I haven't forgotten how to do my job. So unless you're here to tell me I can come back you've wasted your time."

"That's exactly why Garcia is out there Sara. You don't remember what your captor is capable of."

"Apparently not much if all I have is this," she held up her splinted left wrist.

Grissom ran a hand over his graying black hair. "You were sexually assaulted. I was there when the doctor performed the examination. I saw the look of fear on your face and it--- I never want to see that look on your face again. So I'm sorry if I'm trying to do everything in my power to keep you safe."

She stood and began to pace. "Not everything." Sara spoke so quietly he wasn't sure she had said anything at all.

His brow creased. "I'm not sure I understand."

When she returned her gaze the old Sara was back. Determination, knowledge, wisdom were all reflected in her dark eyes. She gestured with her good arm. "Look around you Grissom. We aren't in the lab or the interrogation room or at a crime scene. There's no reason for you not to get emotionally involved."

He was about to respond when his cell phone rang.

"You better get that. It might be one of your D.B.s calling to confirm dinner reservations." Grissom ignored the jab as he flipped it open.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Gil. This is Doc Robbins. I just got the tox screen back and I thought you might want to hear this. Our victim had traces of Psilocybin Puniceus; Red Foot Psilocybes."

"Our vic was high on 'shrooms?"

"Yes, this may explain why there were no defensive wounds. She probably had no idea what was going on at the time. And get this the Caerulipes form of the fungi is found practically all across America, but its cousin, the Puniceus variety is only found in western parts of Asia and Northern Africa."

"So, how did our suspect get them?"

Grissom could almost see the Doc shrug as he said, "That's your job not mine."

"Ok. I'll be there in a few."

He closed his phone and looked up to see Sara studying him again. There was that twisted smirk again. "I guess I was right."

"This discussion isn't over." Grissom followed Sara as she led him to the door.

"Oh don't worry. I look forward to the sequel."

And as Sara was closing the door, Grissom made eye contact with her. "Garcia stays."

* * *

Back at the lab Mia was running the DNA through CODIS as Greg paced behind her.

"Could you stop?" Mia spoke through gritted teeth.

Greg halted and ran a hand over his hair. "Sorry. I just really want to get this guy."

"Worried about Sara?"

He exhaled noisily. "It's just she's always been there for me, I just want to pay her back."

Mia pressed the print button, swiveling in her chair to face him. "Well, there you go. The results from the hairs and the epithelials on the fabric around the victim's wrists."

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the results from the printer. His face fell as his eyes scanned the paper. "The hairs came back unknown, but the skin cells belong to a… I better get this to Grissom."

Greg hurried out of the lab, heading in the direction of Grissom's office. Without knocking he opened the door. A man stood in front of his desk and when he turned Greg nearly jumped out of his Doc Martens'.

"Jeez, Ecklie. I thought you were on vacation."

A smarmy grin split his face. "I wouldn't call a seminar on Managing a Forensics Lab a vacation, but it's always nice to see the Big Apple. I just got back. Were you looking for Gil? Because I believe he had to go make sure Ms. Sidle didn't blow another gasket."

Greg remained silent.

"Oh. Yes. I forgot. Sara's like a sister to you. Please forgive me."

"You're out of line, Conrad."

Both men looked to see Grissom standing in the doorway.

For a moment Ecklie looked shocked but then his lips pulled back. "Of, course. I'm sorry. Must be jetlag. I better go get some sleep. Excuse me." He hastily retreated, with only his stall cologne hinting he'd been there.

Greg's shoulders relaxed. "Man that guy creeps me out."

"Just ignore him." Grissom walked around his desk and dropped into his chair, rubbing his face as he did. "What can I do for you Greg?"

"Oh, right. Well the DNA from the hairs are unknown, but the skin cells belong to--- drumroll please--- Officer Robert Davis."

* * *

After Grissom had left Sara couldn't take it anymore. She broke down and cried. Cried for herself and the man she couldn't change but for some reason never gave-up hope when she should have long ago.

She knew that if she told the officer to go away he'd call Grissom. She knew that Grissom would come to try talking sense into her. She knew he would succeed. But that still hadn't stopped her. She just had to see him.

But now that he was gone all she had were the tears and the feeling that she was being watched, a feeling which had been with her since she'd left the hospital. And even though she had wrapped herself in her thickest comforter, the cold still found a way in.


	7. If I Fell

**Disclaimer: CSI not mine. **

My new favorite reviewer is Sidle Chick. I dedicate this chapter to you.But don't worry I love yall all. Unless you said something bad. Then you suck. Just kidding. And for those of you who want me to kill and or make Ecklie or Sofia the bad guys; not going to happen. They may be jerks, but Ecklie cares too much about her job and can we really blame Sofia for wanting a piece of Grissom?

* * *

Grissom sat calmly at the interrogation table, rehearsing in his mind the questions he would ask. Across from him sat Officer Davis, who now held a look of guilt.

Brass spoke up from his place leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Let's try this again, Davis. What were you doing home when you were supposed to be patrolling the strip?"

"I told you. I wanted to confront her."

"Then can you explain why we found your DNA on the fabric around her wrists?" Grissom's face was an impassive wall of stone.

For a moment Davis was silent, but from the look in his eyes anyone could tell he was holding something back, wondering if he should let it out. Finally he let out a noisy breath. "Fine. This was going to be my first night off in a couple of months so I wanted to make it special, hence the roses and candles. But when I got the call that I had to fill in for another officer I wanted to make sure Melissa wasn't going anywhere. So, I tied her to the bed. I swear to you though, I didn't kill her. When I came back to untie her I found her dead."

"Who do you think the jury is going to believe, Davis? You're the only one we can place at the scene. You have the motive and opportunity. Now, I don't want to put away one of my best guys on the force, but unless you can give us to prove your innocence I'm all ears." Brass was so close now; Davis could see the shadows under his eyes.

Davis hung his head in defeat. "I can't. All I have is my honest to God promise that I didn't kill her."

As Brass motioned to a uniform to make an arrest, Greg, who had been watching from behind the glass, turned to Sara. "You know Grissom is going to be pissed you're here. How'd you get past Garcia?"

A small grin tilted her lips. "I have my ways. And you just let me deal with Grissom."

* * *

A half hour later Sara was sitting across from a very exasperated Grissom who had no idea what to do with her. He had been shocked when he first saw her, then anger, then admiration, before settling on frustration.

"Look, before you say anything, I don't think Officer Davis was the one who kidnapped me."

Grissom arched a brow. "How do you know?"

"I just do. I tried to sleep but these images just came to me out of nowhere." Sara reached into her jacket pocket. "I, uh, wrote them down." She pushed a piece of folded paper across the desk. "I don't know if it will help any but its worth a shot."

Grissom briefly spared a glance down at the notebook page. "Are you going back to your apartment now?"

Leaning back she shrugged. "Well, I'm here, I don't have anything to do. I've cleaned my place about three times now. And its been almost two days since I got out of the hospital."

He narrowed his eyes. "And…?"

Sara took a deep breath. "Let me come back to work. Please. It's obvious my attacker isn't going to try anything else and I promise to work in pairs at all times." She didn't add that she was starting to feel lonely, scared, because every shadow felt like that dark figure from her dreams.

Grissom rubbed his temples. "It's not entirely up to me. Ecklie will want to know your physically ok and not a legal hassle."

She perked up just the slightest bit. "I talked to my doctor. He said as long as I'm taking my meds I should be fine to work. I can even have him fax a signed notice, if need be."

He rolled it over in his head. Maybe exposing her to her normal routine will help her memory return. She only lost a couple of days. Gradually Grissom was being reeled into letting her return until finally he found himself agreeing.

He exhaled noisly. "Fine. Go help Greg. He's around here somewhere. I'll deal with Ecklie."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." And without thinking she bounded to his side of the desk and pressed her lips against his. The moment froze in time until they slowly pulled apart, their stunned expression mirrored in eash others eyes.

Sara stumbled backwards, mumbling something about going to find Greg. For a moment Grissom wasn't even sure it had happened. And as always with Sara he had no idea what to do.

A million questions raced through his mind. Did she mean to do that? Was it planned? It couldn't have been. She was as shocked as he. Did they act like it never happened? Would it happen again? Do I want it to happen again? He was only certain about one thing at this point.

He would never forget the feel of her lips.

* * *

Sara caught up to Greg in the ballistics lab where he was now filling her in on a local robbery where one of the thieves had dropped their gun after being shot in the hand. Blood had sent back no results and no one with similar injuries had checked into a hospital. But the bullets matched those that had been used in a robbery earlier that week.

She nodded her head, but none of the information seeped in. Many of the questions Grissom was asking himself were the same ones Sara had. It was just a kiss, not a marriage proposal and you started it.

"Sara? Are you ok?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Just thinking."

"You sure? That's a pretty nasty bump on your head."

Sara laughed through her noise. "Thanks for noticing."

Greg smiled. "Anytime."

* * *

After a while Grissom came out of his musings long enough to read the list Sara had made. It took a moment for him to get used to her chicken-scratch again.

_A large adobe house._

_A scar on a muscular chest._

_An eagle on top of the world._

_A room made of stone. _

He had to admit not a lot of it made sense, but perhaps it was a sign that the time she had lost would come back. He could only hope it would happen sooner rather than later. That way things would go back to normal and he could get rid of the urge to keep an eye on Sara's every movement.

* * *

To the first person to geuss what one of the clues means a giant life size poster of a cast member of your choice. Not really, but I do wonder where yall think I'm going with this.


	8. Ragdoll

**Disclaimer: Don't own CSI. Do I really have to spell it out?**

Has anyone noticed that most coldplay songs sound exactly alike? I don't know what this has to do with anything, but seriously. Anyway why do you wan't to read this. Does anyone read this? I know I don't. I'm tired. Here you go. I slaved away over a keyboard for four hours. So you better like it or I sic my army of Star Wars pez dispensers on you.

* * *

Grissom was avoiding her. At first Sara thought it was her imagination until she saw him in the hall. When he'd looked up and seen her, he had darted into his office.

The sun was up now signaling that it was near the end of their shift. Sara was positive that Grissom was in his office so she quietly slipped in. Sure enough he was leaning back in his chair concentrating intensely on a case file.

Only when Sara got closer she recognized that the sheet of paper he was holding was the one on which she'd written her list of dreams. She was surprised he'd spend so much time on something that could be of little to no importance.

"Big Brother is watching." Sara gasped as Grissom swiveled to face her. "I'm not as unaware of my surroundings as you may like to believe."

Sara remained quiet.

"Did you need something?"

"A ride home." When Grissom gave her a blank look she explained, "I'm not supposed to operate heavy machinery or drive a car for a while, so I had Garcia give me a ride."

His brows tilted. "Do I want to know how you managed that one?"

"Probably not," she replied, smiling.

Grissom groaned, "Ok. Give me ten minutes."

"Meet you in the break room." And she was gone.

* * *

When Grissom found her she was lounging on a couch, flexing her hand and wrist without the air splint. He noticed the bruised areas of skin resembled a hand. A new wave of anger hit him like a fist to the chest. Someone hadn't wanted her to escape.

The guilt that he had tried to push away returned in full force. He wondered if she would forgive him if she knew the reason he left her alone; the conversation they had had earlier the night of her kidnapping.

He didn't want to think of it now, couldn't think of it now. "You ready to go?"

She wrapped her arm back up and rose to her feet. "Yep. Let's go bug guy."

* * *

If ever there was an awkward silence this was it. Grissom turned on the radio, but they didn't agree on what to listen to, so they just turned it off. The relatively short drive was made twice as long due to an accident. As soon as they got past it some jerk cut them off then went ten miles under the speed limit.

At last the guy turned off the main road and Sara's apartments were in sight. But when they got closer a group of squad cars filled the visitor parking lot. As they parked and got out, a uniformed officer approached them.

"You folks are going to have to move along." He spread his arms as if to make a human barricade.

"You don't understand. I live here." Sara was a couple inches taller than the officer and could easily see over his head.

"I'm sorry ma'am. Can't let you through."

Grissom flashed his credentials. "Look, we're with the crime lab. Can you at least tell us what happened?"

The officer slowly lowered his arms. "Well, one of the apartments had an explosion. Obviously not an accident."

Grissom's heart skipped a beat, and then began beating rapidly. When he looked at Sara, she had gone pale. She licked her lips and swallowed, but her voice still held a croak, "Was it number 182?"

The officer blinked, "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"

"Just a guess." And as if her legs could no longer support her, Sara lowered herself to the curb, placing her head between her legs.

The officer spoke into his radio, "Timms, we got a woman over here about ready to pass-out. Could you send an EMT to check her?"

A confirmation quickly came back through the line. Grissom knelt beside her, touching her shoulder. "Are you okay, Sara?"

Her voice was muffled by her legs, "Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Just breathe." He gently rubbed her back until the EMT came over with his kit and checked all her vital signs. The man, Frank he said his name was, said she was fine, but to just rest for a minute, then gave her some ibuprofen.

When the wave of nausea passed, Sara stood, Grissom held her arm for support.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to make a statement, then I can let you go."

She nodded, following him to his car. Grissom followed closely by her side.

A half hour later they were back in the SUV. Sara still hadn't gained back any of the color in her face. "I need to call my insurance people." She hit her forehead, "Shit, I don't have any, except for my car. Now all my stuff is gone." Sadly she remembered that wasn't much. "I need to find a new place to live, all new clothes, furniture. Luckily I put my mother's necklace and all my other important items in a safety deposit box. I need somewhere to stay."

Grissom realized she was rambling and let her continue while he pulled out of the parking lot. Once the vehicle stopped again Sara stopped talking and looked around. They were parked outside his townhouse.

"What're we doing here?"

"You need a place to stay. You can rest, then we can go get your car after you've eaten."

Sara was too drained--- emotionally and mentally--- to disagree.


	9. Secret

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own CSI. **

Man, I've been really mean to Sara. I'm like thebully who gives a kid candy then takes it back, says they stole it, and beat the crap out of them. Not that I've ever done that literally. And to Wiccamage, sorry. My explanation is I was overdosing on Dr. Pepper and it was 3 in the morning and I can't promise I'll never have out of characterness again, but I'll try harder. Also, if anyone gets a chance they should watch Manhunter with William Petersen. Corny but awesome.

* * *

'Earlier today an explosion rocked an apartment complex. Police are not releasing more information other than it was not an accident and there are no suspects at this time. Surrounding apartments received major damage from smoke and fire. One man, who lived next door, was admitted to the hospital with second degree burns, but he should be released within a day or so. We'll bring you more information on this story tonight at nine.'

Warrick switched off the small TV set in the break room, turning to Nick, who was pouring a cup of coffee. "Give you two guesses what our assignment will be tonight."

"Hmm, let me see. Would it be where that twenty bucks you owe me is?" Nick chuckled and sat in the chair across from him.

"Me owe you? You cheated and we both know it." Warrick challenged good naturedly.

"I did not."

"You really expect me to believe that you accidentally jerked the controller out of my hand?"

"Do you want a rematch?"

"Let's go, man."

"Whoa, down boys. We got work to do." Catherine walked in with the assignment sheets.

Nick pointed to Warrick, "You lucked out and you still owe me."

He waved him off, "Yeah, yeah."

Catherine spoke to them as she started another pot of coffee. "I'm sure you two have both heard by now what happened to Sara's apartment. Bomb squad has confirmed that the area is stable, but with all the damage done by the fire and water, it's going to be a challenge gathering evidence. And don't worry Sara is fine. She's staying with Grissom until this all blows over. Okay? Let's go."

* * *

Her feet pounded against the pavement, her heart hammered inside her chest, and her lungs burned, sending a fire through out her entire body. But she couldn't stop. He was right behind her she felt it.

Her knees gave, careening her forward. Her hands hit the pavement, but didn't prevent her from slamming her forehead into the asphalt. She tried to stand except her legs could no longer carry her. She had to keep going though.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shirt and pulled her backwards with enough force to rip the sleeves. He pulled her roughly against him.

"Now, now, Ms. Sidle. You weren't trying to escape were you?" Sara trembled and jerked her self side to side, but from the silent rage in his eyes it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere soon. And the only screaming she could do remained in her head.

* * *

"Sara. Sara. Sara!" Someone was shaking her. It was him. He'd come back for her.

"No, No. Let go of me!" She struggled against him, lashing out with her arms and legs, but he held her still, close to his chest.

"Sara, it's me; Grissom."

She fully awakened and stared up at him. Concern wrinkled his forehead. It was then that she remembered where she was and why. Grissom having an officer drive her car over, Catherine bringing her some clothes and a card from Lindsey, shower, guest room.

"What happened?" he asked.

She groaned and pushed away from the warm comfort of his arms. "It was just a dream." And before he could ask any more questions she quickly got untangled from the sheets and locked herself in the bathroom.

Grissom sat staring at the disordered bed-sheet and comforter, totally at a loss as to what his next move should be. It was obvious her dream had been more than a nightmare. But could he really expect her to share secrets when he hadn't so much as told her his favorite food in all the time he'd known her?

* * *

Sara watched herself in the mirror, feeling like a peeping-tom in her own skin. For the umpteenth time she counted her bruises as if she were one of the countless victims she'd seen on that examining table; A contusion near her hair line, slightly swollen, one on her right temple, split lip, a long patch of discoloration on her neck directly below her jaw. If she were to strip she'd see the marks on her wrist, arms, shoulders, torso, waist, thighs, calves, toes. Some of them were as small as pin pricks, others—most—noticeably the size of a fist.

Even she was surprised she was alive. At the moment, though, it was hard to believe it was something to be thankful for.

* * *

They had a couple hours before their shift started. So, while Grissom made a pot of spaghetti, Sara showered and dressed. Soon, they were both sitting at the table, with the only audible sounds coming from their utensils.

Finally Grissom spoke up, "Did you know that there are approximately 232 insect eggs in a jar of tomato sauce?"

Sara stopped, with a fork of noodles halfway to her mouth. Slowly she set it back on her plate. "Thanks, Griss."

"They're completely harmless. Heck, there are people who eat fried scorpions. I've never tried them, but mealworms in rice—"

"Could we possibly talk about something else?"

"What was your dream about?"

"I told you; nothing." Sara pushed back from the table. "Maybe we should go in early. You know see if—"

"Wait, I should probably tell you something."

Sara halted and waited for him to speak up.

He took a deep breath and plunged in.

* * *

Hmm... I wonder what he's going to tell her.


	10. Through With You

**Disclaimer: How many times do I have to say I don't own CSI?**

Hmm... I don't have much to say this time. I almost bit my dad's head off yesterday when he wouldn't stop commenting that Sofia is hot and Grissom would be better off with her. Grrness. But he did help me with the next couple of chapters so I guess he's ok. I'm thinking about bringing this story to a close though within maybe seven chapters. Dont hold me to that though. Just an estimate. I guess maybe I did have things to say. More than usual. Oh if its possible I think my tarantula is sick. Kinda worried about him.

* * *

"First, let me start by telling you what when on that night at the crime scene. We were called in to investigate the murder of a young woman. She was strangled, and then stabbed in the chest. As you took the preliminary photos, you asked if I'd like to leave to catch up on paperwork." He paused, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. "And I did."

Sara was shocked. "But protocol requires at least two CSIs to do the initial collection of evidence. You were obligated to wait for a replacement."

"I know. There's no excuse. I should never have let my emotions get involved."

She scoffed. "You?"

"It happens, Sara. I'm only human."

"Could have fooled me."

Their glares were like flint and steel.

"Ok then. Who were you so emotionally involved with?" she asked with crossed arms.

"You."

Now she was curious. "How?"

"I came in a few minutes before our shift. You know how it is then. There are maybe two or three people still there. And you were in the break room. I thought then was the best time to tell you…" He trailed off.

"You aren't one to beat around the bush. Tell me what?"

"I told you that I thought it would be better for the lab if you were to switch to working days."

Her forehead creased. Her temples were throbbing. Images and sounds were slowly working their way into her consciousness. "Then I asked you if you meant better for the lab or better for you."

Grissom's eyes slightly widened, then he nodded.

"And you said nothing. So, I told you fine." She pushed back from the table.

"Sara, I take it back now."

She shook her head, not the best thing since her head felt like a Sex Pistols concert was being held inside her skull. "No, Grissom. Don't take it back because of pity. Take it back because you have absolutely no qualms about me."

Stillness fell upon them like a thick quilt.

"See." She stood and waved her splinted arm in front of her. "Nothing has changed. You once told me not to chase two rabbits at once because I'll end up losing them both. Well after more than five year I'm tired of chasing a rabbit who doesn't want to be caught."

Without waiting for a reply Sara grabbed her purse and left, pulling closed the door none too gently.

When Grissom heard a car start he suddenly jerked out of his petrified state to rush outside. But he was too late. Sara was already gone.

He hurried back inside grabbed his phone and punched in a number he knew by heart.

It rang twice before the brusque voice answered. "This is Brass."

"Jim, I need you to put out an APB on a dark blue GMC Yukon. And if you can post Sara's plate numbers with it."

"I'll get right on it. Is she in trouble?"

"I hope not."

"Ok then. I'll call back when we've found her."

"Thanks."

For the next thirty minutes Grissom paced his living room. How could he have screwed things up so badly that a woman would rather risk her life than remain in his presence? He knew after telling her what had gone on she'd want time alone, maybe lock herself in the bathroom or guestroom, but not this.

This was twice now in one week he'd let her down. It was a new record. He couldn't begin to list how many times he'd done that over the years; the earliest of which, when he'd met her at a seminar in San Francisco. He could only vaguely remember what it had been about—DNA Testing? New Fingerprint Techniques? It didn't matter really. What was most clear in his mind though was a young brunette, obviously a new comer. She took a seat in the back, but somehow managed to sense that he was watching her from the front row.

She gave him a friendly smile then turned her attention to the stage where a NYU professor was demonstrating one thing or another. Suddenly he hadn't cared. He nudged Neil Roberts, a coroner from Austin, Texas.

"Who's the newbie in the back?"

Neil turned and gazed a few long moments. "Not sure. Maybe she's that gal Simmons got to replace one of his lab techs. Samantha or Sierra, something like that. Why? Don't you have someone waiting for you back in Vegas?"

He shook his head. "Nah didn't work out."

Neil chuckled, "What's new?"

For the rest of the afternoon Grissom had nearly strained his neck from the amount of time he was looking to the back of the room. The brunette was focused though, listening intensely even pausing at times to take notes.

At last, the demonstrations ended and people stood to mingle about. Grissom practically climbed over chairs to catch the brunette in case she left. Luckily she'd stopped to talk to Simmons, a man easily recognizable by his bright red hair.

"Well hello there, Simmons. This must be your neophyte from Harvard you told me about."

"Gil Grissom," The men shook hands, "Yes, this is Sara Sidle. I made sure to grab her before your lab could bat an eyelash. Very bright young lady."

"I'm sure," And as he shook her hand a slight blush dusted her cheeks.

"Well, Gil it was nice to see you again. Don't forget to fax me those articles on insects you mentioned earlier."

"I will."

Simmons nodded, and then left.

"Does it get easier?"

Grissom grinned, "Wish I could say it did. The procedures become second nature, but criminals sometimes find their way around them."

"Why were you staring at me?"

He thought for a moment, but drew a blank. "I don't know."

"Do you normally watch people this closely or is it just one of those things that become second nature?" Her smile lit her eyes.

He smiled back. "I guess so." He jangled the keys in his pocket, and then asked nervously, "Do you want to maybe go get a cup of coffee with me?"

"Sure."

Sara led him to a café only a block from the conference center. From then on conversation became easy. An hour went by, then two then three. When the evening began drawing to an end they walked back to the conference center parking lot where they stood next to his car.

She was tapping her foot, clearly wanting to ask a question. He had a good idea what it was, too. But he never let her ask it. He wrote his number on one of the pamphlets, shoved it at her, and drove away. He returned to Las Vegas the next morning.

Grissom looked at it now like one of those moments you always wondered about, but knew you'd do nothing different.

His cell phone chirped at him and he quickly opened it. "Brass? Did you find her?"

"Yeah. Patrol spotted her vehicle at Robinson Park off of Flamingo."

"Thanks. I'll call if I need anything else."

"You usually do."

* * *

Oh, is it just me or can Grissom or maybe Will not choose between black hair or grey hair? He's cool either way but still. Im bothered by these things because Grissom doesn't seem to be the kind of guy who's like ahhh! my hair! I'll shut up now. I have a tendency to babble. 


	11. She Will Be Loved

**Disclaimer: I lost the rights to CSI in a poker game in '99.**

I'm sorry if my chapters seem short its just that I stop when I can't think of anymore to add. Plus I'm not into those long winding paragraphs about a door nail. Case in point: anything by Charles Dickens. Also If i don't update oftenI lose interest in the story and just decide to say "screw it" for two months. And **to drakien**: the Grissom posters mine though. Lastly please dont attack me for what follows.

* * *

Sara was sitting on a swing, gently pushing backwards and forwards. The soothing motion led her mind to a place where it rarely ever went; to rare memories from her childhood when her parents were happy.

Independence Day of 1976, her seventh birthday when her father had actually listened and had gotten her a toy science kit, and the last Christmas before her life was completely turned on its head would always be the defining moments of her youth. She still couldn't help but smile at the image of her dad with bows stuck to his head.

She supposed that these things were coming to her now because today was the day her parents had gotten married. In fact the only real picture she kept of them was from their wedding ceremony.

Sara was so caught up in her memories that she barely noticed when the swing next to her creaked under someone's weight. She didn't even need to move her head though to know who it was.

"Sara—"

"Grissom, what were you like as a child?"

He thoughtfully considered the question. "Strange. Word got to the police that I was dissecting animals. An officer came around to check me out. It was hard to explain why I was doing it, even now, but when I showed him that they were already dead when I found them he let me off the hook. After that they would call me at times to do autopsies on cats or dogs. It didn't make me any more popular at school."

"I can't imagine why."

"What about you?" He watched her carefully in the pale light given off by the moon.

"I was a dreamer. No matter what happened I always looked forward to the light at the end of the tunnel." She hesitated and licked her lips. "Sometimes when the fights got really bad I would escape into the attic and pretend I was a princess trapped by her wicked uncle who had taken over the kingdom. I was thrown into the highest tower but a prince would come to rescue me. As I got older the prince stopped coming."

Grissom reached out to lace his fingers with hers, so that their arms hung together between the swings. "I can't imagine why."

* * *

They drove back to Grissom's house in silence, a companionable silence. It was one of those moments when words were unnesecary. As they walked up the steps to the door they linked hands again, it just seemed natural.

Sara was nervous. When they got inside Grissom wrapped his arms around her. She took in his scent for a moment then pushed him away to look into his eyes.

"Are you sure? Once we do this there's no going back."

"Yes. It's time we moved forward."

She still looked worried though so he lowered his lips to hers in a reassuring kiss.

A little while later Grissom was watching the ceiling fan in his bedroom as Sara lightly dozed beside him. Her hand rested over his heart. A quick glance at the clock told him they should be getting up soon, but they'd been in early practically everyday since the beginning. They could afford to be late at least once.

What was really bothering him though was what happened now. Was this a one time thing? And what about the no romance between employees rule? Would anyone find them out? Catherine most certainly. She had a nose for this kind of thing.

A million more questions coursed through his mind, each filling him with more dread than the last.

Suddenly Sara stirred beside him and none of it mattered just then. He covered her hand with his and relaxed while the moment lasted.

* * *

When Grissom and Sara entered the lab they were no longer hand-in-hand, but there was a difference in the way they walked. Usually professional their postures were now loose and casual.

They were almost to Grissom's office when they ran into Sofia.

"Oh, good. Grissom, I've been looking for you." Her tone was urgent.

Sara hung back with her arms crossed.

"What is it?"

"A woman was found murdered with the same MO as Melissa Davis."

"How long ago?"

"About an hour."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I did. You weren't answering your cell."

"Must've been bad reception. Are you heading over there now?"

"Just waiting for you."

Grissom turned to Sara. "Stay here." When Sara would have spoken he held up his hand. "If this is the same guy then we can't risk having you at the scene." He then gestured to Sofia. "We'll take my car."

Sara stood watching them leave trying not to feel cast-off like last years Halloween candy. She hated the feeling she got when Grissom was around Sofia and she knew she'd go crazy if she continued to think about it. So she went in search of Greg to see if he could fill her in on their cases. But she was almost positive that his anecdotes about Papa Olaf would help right now.

* * *

I had to get that out of my system. the next couple of chapters im going to be focusing on more of the mystery angle.


	12. Double Vision

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I wouldn't be writing this right now if I did. Or maybe I would. Who knows.**

I was going back throughmy reviews because i have that kind of time and i didn't want to write my 5 page essay when I noticed that Sidle Chick hasbeen the most frequent reviewer. So thank youfor not trashing my story and picking apart every detail.Now onto the latest installment of this carnival ride gone bad. Don't ask mewhat that means.

* * *

It was déjà vu all over again. The hotel room was set up almost identically to that of the Davis master bedroom. Candles, rose petals, dead woman on the bed. The only difference was the cheesy hotel furniture. 

Brass spoke up from the doorway. "Cleaning woman found her. Manager I.D.ed her as Karlie Urban. Says she worked at the strip club across the street and would sometimes bring men over here for a little more than a lap dance. He didn't get a good look at the guy."

"Could you see if someone across the street did?"

"Sure. I'll run over there now. Holler if you need anything."

Grissom turned back to the scene, taking mental notes as he examined the details. There was something there, nagging him.

As he started speaking Sofia stopped talking to herself. "Something's not right about this murder. The scenes are similar, but look at the victims. The first was a promiscuous cop wife and this girl is a stripper looking to make a buck. And how does Sara fit in to all this?"

"Maybe with the media attention Davis had to change his method."

"How many of each kind of animal did Moses take on the ark?"

"Two."

"Trick question. Moses never built an ark. Noah did. Your mind fixed on one detail and jumped to an answer. The liver temp suggests that Ms. Urban has only been here for a few hours. So tell me, how does a man in jail commit murder?"

"He doesn't."

* * *

Whenever things got stressful, Sara always went back to what was most familiar to her; processing evidence. Right now that meant cataloging semen stains from bed sheets. Not the normal person's idea of a fun Friday night, but the simple routine kept her mind occupied. 

She was halfway through with the first sheet when her cell phone rang. The cheerful little jingle nearly caused her to drop the UV light. She set the aside the light and tinted glasses, then answered the phone with her good arm.

"This is Sara Sidle."

"Ah, yes. Ms. Sidle." The way he drew out the syllables sent a chill down her spine. What scared her more was that she didn't know why.

"Is there something I can help you with?" She struggled to keep her voice professional.

"You could tell me why you thought you could escape me. Are you really so arrogant as to think I don't know everything you're doing at any given moment? I've seen you every moment since you returned home. I even saw you with _him._"

Sara couldn't breathe. She stuttered, but managed to get out, "What do you want?"

"I just thought you'd like to know that you'll be the reason why _he_ and countless others die. You know I can do it. You've seen the work I did on your apartment." He paused a moment, realized she couldn't speak and let out a menacing cackle. "See you around, Ms. Sidle."

The phone disconnected and Sara's heart slowed until her mind was able to wrap around his implications. She couldn't move fast enough. As she hurried down the hall she dialed Grissom's number. After four rings he hadn't picked up. She cursed under her breath.

Greg stopped her near the exit. "Where are you going?"

"I need you to drive me to the scene Grissom and Sofia are working."

Greg seemed to sense the urgency of the situation and quickly escorted her to his car. When they were inside and on the road he asked her what was going on. She spoke as she redialed his number.

"My kidnapper has threatened to kill Grissom and innocent bystanders."

"How do you know it was him?"

"He called me Ms. Sidle."

"But still it could have been anyone."

"Just trust me. It was him. Dammit. Why isn't he answering?"

Greg grabbed his radio and spoke rapidly. "This is Greg Sanders. We got a Code 10 at Blue Banana Motel. Requesting immediate assistance."

A reply came back instantly. "10-4. Do not go near that building. I repeat stay clear."

"You heard him Sara. We have to stay away."

"I'll stay away as soon as I know Grissom is ok."

* * *

Sofia pushed off from the floor and stood. "Nothing under the bed." 

Grissom turned to her. "Nothing in the closet either. Did you check the bathroom?"

"No not yet."

"I got it. You dust for prints on the nightstand."

She nodded and went to do just that as Grissom pushed open the cheap ply wood and cardboard door. After he entered he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Sofia."

"Yeah?"

"We need to get out of here. Right now."

* * *

I would continue but im tired and my mom is complaining that i need to go to bed and yadda yadda yadda. Apparently im making too much noise with the keyboard. Didn't know that was possible. 


	13. Not Coming Home

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

I'm not feeling too well. Maybe it's because school is a mere three weeks away.Has anyone noticed that GSR, which stands for Grissom/Sara Romance, is also the abbreviation for Gun shot residue? Coincidence? I think not. Oh and again I am not going to kill off Sofia and/or Ecklie. I'm sorry.

* * *

They heard the explosion before they saw it. Then a dark cloud of ash and debris rose into the sky, a sign of the apocalypse if there ever was one. Sara's heart sunk to her toes and she would have screamed had there not been a lump the size of Texas lodged in her throat. Her knuckles turned white where she dug them into the door and center console.

Greg stopped the car a block from the motel and for a moment they could only stare as flames poured out of a massive hole in the side of the motel. Even in the early morning hours there were still people coming out of surrounding businesses and homes, but none from the building in question.

In the distant sirens blared and soon fire engines and police were in place in front of the motel. Police backed the crowd to a safe distance. Most had a look of panic, confusion, or curiosity, but one man stood apart from the rest. His hair was buzzed and from his stance he looked ready to receive orders from a drill sergeant.

Sara would have overlooked had it not been for one small detail; a tattoo on the back of his neck. When the man turned she glanced away but her awareness of him had the hair standing on the back of her neck.

Greg tried to speak but words escaped him. And as firefighters started to bring people out of the wreckage they slowly got out of the car. Some of the people were fine, with barely a scratch, but then there were others who had to be carried out. Both were hoping for the best, but feared the worst.

Suddenly someone grabbed her shoulder and Sara's mind automatically went back to the man with the tattoo. She spun to face her would be attacker, only it wasn't him.

Ignoring any form of professionalism she launched herself into his arms, grateful when his arms cocooned her in his warmth. Her voice was muffled, but could be easily deciphered. "I thought he killed you. You weren't answering your cell."

"I forgot to charge it. It's ok now." He turned to Sofia and a relieved Greg who were standing awkwardly a few feet away. "Sofia, could you drive back to the lab with Greg?"

She nodded.

Grissom started to lead Sara to his SUV when she stopped. "Wait. Look at that crowd of people over there. Do you see a man standing near a squad car with a buzz cut and a tattoo on the back of his neck?"

"Yeah. That's Kevin Guzman. He used to be the head of the Tactical Unit."

"He's also the man that kidnapped me."

After Grissom and Sara were both inside his SUV he took her hand. "Are you sure it's Guzman?"

"Yes. Remember that list I gave you? On it I wrote down 'an eagle on top of the world.' It matches the tattoo on the back of his neck."

"Ok. If it is him the evidence will show us."

"Griss, we don't have time for the evidence. He's following us. And if he continues in this pattern he will become more and more reckless. And he won't stop until we're dead."

* * *

A little while later they were all in the conference room. Grissom was pacing, Sofia looking over the evidence, Greg leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, and Sara was rubbing her temples.

Grissom stopped near the whiteboard, "Ok, let's go over this; Starting with the murder of Melissa Davis. There isn't any evidence that places Guzman at the scene. The hairs we found are too long to be his."

"They could belong to his wife or even his son, if they were on his clothes at the time." Sofia said.

"True, but I doubt we could get a warrant based on that."

Greg spoke next, "What about the yellow paint chips?"

"Hodges was supposed to be looking that up." Grissom walked over to the intercom on the wall. "Hodges, get over to the conference room, now. And bring the results from the Davis fence." As an after thought he added, "Please."

A few moments later Hodges came in with an exasperated look on his face. "You know, I'm just right down the hall. You didn't have to yell at me over the intercom. But since you said please…" He handed a sheet of paper to Grissom and then explained to everyone, "The paint on the fence matches that of which Chevy used on their 2003 Tahoe. To save you time I ran the info through the DMV and came up with three names."

Grissom quickly scanned the paper. "Guess who's on the top of the list. Greg, run this over to Brass."

"You got it." Greg hopped up and hurried out of the room.

"Ok while he's doing that let's move on. We know that Sara was taken around one in the morning and found two days later near I-95." He marked the spot on a map centered on the table. "The officer that found her said she was heading south and in her condition was probably walking two miles an hour. Doctor Ericsson estimated she'd been outside about three hours."

Sofia took the marker and drew a large circle. "Which gives us this area. That's 28 square miles, Gil."

"That's a lot of land."

"Yes, but with a whole lot of nothing. It looks like the only area with any houses is here…"

Sara shook her head. "No, that's not it. I remember screaming. If I was held in a residential area someone would have phoned the cops."

"But there's nothing else out there."

The silence that followed was one of deep concentration.

Sofia suddenly had an idea. "What about that old house that gangsters used back in the forties? It's supposed to be sealed off, but anyone that watches the Travel channel would know about it."

Grissom drummed his fingers. "Well, it's worth a look. I'll get Brass to clear it. Sara—"

"Forget it. I'm coming with you."

* * *

I'm trying to end this before I have to help my mom with the 1-27 sale. The world's longest garage sale. Say it with me, yay.


	14. Sweetest Goodbye

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. What their faces do.**

This may be my last chapter for a couple of weeks. I have a ton of schoolwork to do. Maybe not that much, but still more than an hours worth. Plus my source into the Dallas Tactical Unit is going on vacation, so any questions about things I might have will go unanswered. And other things are getting in the way, i.e. softball, sleep, food, video games. You get the picture.

* * *

The Pericolo house, was once a lively place. Built in the late fifties by a lounge singer who wanted to be close to the city without actually living in it, the mansion was famous for parties that lasted days, sometimes weeks even.

But that was a long time ago. The house was now nothing more than a reminder of just how far money could go. What used to be a Garden of Eden was now nothing more than a desolate piece of desert with some sticks on top of it.

"Who owns this place?"

"The Las Vegas Historical Society. Currently they're trying to come up with the funds to restore it."

Greg frowned. "Las Vegas has a historical society?"

Sara shook her head and smiled. "Do they mind us poking around?"

Grissom pushed through the front iron gate. "As long as we don't break anything."

"I doubt there's anything left to break."

There weren't any street lights so only their flashlight illuminated their paths. Luckily the sun would be up soon.

When they got up to the porch Brass came out the front, holstering his gun. "It's all clear guys. Watch your step though. There's a lot of loose boards."

"Ok, then. Greg and Sofia take the outside. Sara and I will process inside."

As Sara and Grissom entered the house Sofia headed to the right shining her flashlight along the chipped stone path. Greg was close behind.

"So, uh, what exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary for a house no one has lived in for thirty years."

When they reached the back of the house, Greg's light fell on a thorn bush with a cord running into the house. "What about that?"

They walked closer and what they could see through the branches was a portable power generator. Greg snapped a couple of pictures and moved on to the back porch. "Looks like somebody broke the lock to the back door." Only the eerie hush of the desert answered him. As he turned something hard connected with his temple and he dropped to the porch in an unconscious heap.

The man that held Sofia from behind growled into her ear, "Open the door." After she did what the man said he shoved her inside the kitchen and held the gun to her back. "Get Sara and Grissom in here."

She hesitated and the man pressed the gun more firmly into her back. "Sara! Grissom! Get in here! There's something I need to show you!"

"Good. Now sit." He pushed her down onto one of the wooden chairs along the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Keep your hands on the counter."

Soon footsteps were heard, and then Sara entered followed by Grissom. When they saw the man Grissom immediately held onto Sara's arm.

"Guzman."

"Grissom."

"Why are you doing this?"

"No. You don't get to ask questions. She knows what she did. And now because of her you all must pay." He cocked the gun and aimed it directly at Sara's heart. Sofia saw her chance.

Two shots rang out one directly after the other. Guzman fell to the floor, followed by Grissom. Sofia holstered her gun and spoke into her walkie-talkie. "Brass. We got a downed suspect and two CSI. The suspect and Grissom are in the kitchen. Greg is on the back porch."

"Ok. An ambulance is on the way."

Sara heard nothing of the exchange as she dropped to her knees next to Grissom. Blood was already soaking through his jacket. She removed her vest and placed it under his head. "Grissom, open your eyes and blink twice if you can hear me." When he did she used a small pocket knife to remove his shirt. The bullet had entered and exited through the shoulder. She applied pressure then turned her head to Sofia who was watching a couple feet away. "See if anyone has any ice."

While Sofia searched for the ice Sara put her full attention back on Grissom. "Can you sit up?" He nodded. She helped him to lean against the wall and quickly went back to applying pressure. "Can you talk?"

"I think so."

"Ok. To make sure you don't go into shock I want you to start talking to me."

"About what?"

"Anything. What was your first pet?"

He thought a moment. "A cat named Ferdinand." He continued talking and after a while the bleeding subsided. Sara fashioned a bandage out of the remains of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his shoulder. A few minutes later the paramedics showed up carting Grissom away.

Sara followed them out to the ambulance.

"How'd you know what to do?" One of the EMTs asked her.

"I used to date a medic."

"Well you might have just saved his life. Are you going to ride with him to the hospital?"

"No. I have something I need to do."


	15. Always

**Disclaimer: CSI is not mine to fool with but if the writers would hurry the GSR along this wouldn't be a problem.**

I know I'm supposed to be doing school work here, but it was too tempting so I went ahead and finished the story. Don't tell my mom. She thinks I'm almost done with my essay but really I have like three more pages to write. SHH. Also I have the first two seasons on dvd now so I'll give you two guesses as to what I've been watching the past week. After this though I swear I will write my essay. Pinky promise. Now if my pinky falls off does it still count?

* * *

Grissom came to in stages. First, he started to hear a low hum, then the smell of bleach and other cleaners. He lifted his left arm to rub his eyes and out of habit reached for his glasses, but his hand grabbed nothing but air.

Focusing his gaze his eyes swept over the hospital room. It was a double suite but the other bed was empty. In fact Grissom was completely alone. A glance at the clock told him that graveyard was just starting, but still… He thought that she would have at least…

Even though he was horizontal it felt as though his heart dropped to his toes. He never would've imagined he could have a reaction like this. As if Sara was his to feel possessive about. Actually he should be glad he was alone right now. Times like these were rare even if he was in the hospital.

But as the night went on and the nurse came in to check his vitals and the doctor telling him he could leave the next morning, being alone was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He tried telling himself that the sinking feeling was just a chemical reaction, but never had he felt so hollow. Like the blood refused to enter his heart and he would never be full again.

It was then Grissom knew he'd fallen for Sara. His only fear was that if he ever hit the bottom of the hole he'd dug, he might never be able to get up again.

The following afternoon Grissom decided to pay a little visit to graveyard. He had learned from Sofia that Sara had taken leave, but hadn't specified how long or where she was going. But Grissom had an ace up his sleeve. If anyone knew where Sara was, Greg did.

He found the man in question in the break room.

"Greg, just the guy I was looking for."

Greg kept his eyes on the file in his hands. "Aren't you supposed to be on paid leave?"

"I'm not here to work. I'm just here to visit. " As Grissom sat Greg stood, closing the folder.

"You know I'd love to sit and chat, but I got a, um, 4-73 out on the Strip."

Grissom tilted his head back with the movement of his eyebrows. "Wow, tornado debris. Hmm… must have missed that on the news at noon. Usually I watch channel six but maybe they did a report on channel three."

Greg sighed and gestured helplessly with his hands.

"Come on, not even for a man who can only use one arm?" They both glanced at the sling holding his right arm.

Already Grissom could see he was winning him over. "You know she's going to kill me, right?"

He smiled, "Yeah and she could probably make it look like an accident too."

Groaning, Greg sat back down. "She went home."

"But her apartment…"

"Not that home. Sara said she was going to stay with an aunt or cousin outside of San Francisco."

"Thanks Greg."

"Yeah, yeah. You owe me."

Sara could count on one hand the amount of times she visited her mother's grave. She would try to tell herself that it was because she never had the time, but the truth was every time she would visit it left a bad taste in her mouth. Mostly she would come out of guilt more than grief.

Today, though, was different. It was time she stopped running from her past and trying to fix her childhood vicariously through other victims.

Technically it wasn't a graveyard, but it was where her mother's ashes were buried. Twenty years ago, after her mother was sentenced to prison, she took her own life. The state had allowed her to witness the burial as specified in a will her mother had written only days before.

A stone marker was placed on the hilltop, but surprisingly wasn't overgrown with foliage. There was even a small bouquet of wildflowers, partially wilted, though no more than a couple days old. Sara guessed from her aunt Shannon who only lived a mile or so down the road.

Shannon wasn't actually her aunt, merely an old friend of her mothers who would take care of her or watch her when need be, i.e. prolonged hospital visits, extra house guests—artifacts from her parents hardcore hippie days.

When Sara had been turned over to the state Shannon tried to gain custody but was denied when old drug charges were brought up. She'd stayed in touch though and would always be a mere phone call away if she needed.

Sara sat a few feet in front of the marker and read the engraving.

_Death is always and under all circumstances a tragedy,_

_For if it is not, then it means that life itself has become one._

_Laura Sidle 1948-1987_

It seemed almost ironic that with all her anti-government protests the quote she stated most often came from Teddy Roosevelt himself. Sara smiled softly and expelled a sigh. But then her expression turned somber as she glanced past the marker, down the slope that crawled into the sea.

Though there was no one nearby, she spoke in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry I haven't been by much…" Sara continued speaking for the next half hour, with only the rustling of trees and birds to answer back. "… I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry for holding you—us—back. All those times you'd pack the car and try to take us away, I'd stop you. Stall until it got too late. But I think it's time for me to stop feeling guilty about it. Whatever happened happened. And there's nothing I can do about it. This drove me crazy for so long; not being in control. But, now that's all going to change."

She stood her hand resting on the headstone a moment before she turned back to the trail leading to the main road. What met her should have surprised her, but it didn't.

"Grissom…"

His gaze captured hers and they stood silently, before Sara joined him against his SUV.

"Let me guess; Greg?"

"Who else?"

Her lips tilted to one side. A stillness surrounded them. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath.

"Guzman, uh, died on the way to the hospital. Greg's wounds were superficial. Nick and Warrick found a jackpot of evidence in the shed behind the house. Hairs, pictures—"

"You didn't seriously come all this way just to tell me this did you?"

He paused for a moment, and then whispered, "No."

"So, why did you come?"

"I missed you."

Sara twisted her neck to look at him. He was staring off into the distance and she wondered if he was going to change the subject, continue on as if he'd never said anything. But this time he turned his head to fix his eyes on hers.

"Sara—"She waited as he sorted through his thoughts. "I'm not very good at this—this relationship stuff." He seemed so unsure and her heart went out to him as she could see more prominently the bags under his eyes.

She stood in front of him to hold his face in her hands. With her thumbs she softly massaged his eyelids closed, while she rubbed his temples with her index fingers. When she dropped her hands to his shoulders a few moments later he seemed more relaxed, but was still irresolute.

Grissom then dug in his pocket, his eye lighting when he found what he was looking for. "I know I don't always say the right thing, but maybe this will help explain."

He then pulled out a gold chain with a honey colored stone dangling from the end. As Grissom clasped the necklace around her neck Sara examined it more closely. In the center was the tiniest of flies.

She smiled and laced her hands around his neck, "Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move…"

"…doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love."

And right there under the sunny Californian sky, with his arms encircling her, she murmured, "Always."

The End.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Be on the look out for a new story or maybe a sequel in the following months.


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